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“Which part of he’s my client, don’t you understand?” I ask.
“You’re exempt from the office fraternization clause, and if you’re both consenting adults… why should the night end with dinner and a little bar hopping? I’m just sayin’.”
“Moving right along. To answer your question, Rhys is getting ready to board a private jet to Vietnam to deal with a production crisis. There’s a strike with no end in sight. Then, he’s heading to South Korea to source out other reputable manufacturers. He’ll be gone for a while.”
“God made the decision for you. Sexy Beckett it is.”
“Phoebe!”
“Okay, okay. No more clowning around. Going back to the reason you called. You’re right. Your whole wardrobe screams unapproachable. Same goes for your hairstyle.”
“The look says professional.”
She shakes her head. “I disagree. The look says Stay the fuck away, asshole! I’ve told you that a million times.”
Okay, she has. I just chose to ignore her.
“I understand you have nooooooo interest in Beckett, but if you want to be the fun one—the playful one—you have to dress the part.”
Chapter 15
Beckett
I park my red Alfa Romeo 4C Spider in front of Arianne’s El Segundo complex building. Lucky for me, she lives in a neighboring city, therefore traffic wasn’t too much of a bitch. After Arianne buzzes me in, I take the elevator and get off on the fourth floor and head down the hallway to her sublet.
I knock.
She opens.
When she does, I take a step back, stunned.
Whoa.
If it weren’t for that gorgeous face and those sparkling brown eyes staring back at me, I’d think I had knocked on the wrong door.
Talk about dramatic transformation.
The woman standing in front of me isn’t as guarded as the one who left my office hours ago.
No more armor?
I take in every single delicious inch of Arianne’s body.
Her outfit doesn’t show much skin, but wow, wow, and wow.
Since the elevator incident, she’s been a fascination. Before her, I was never this obsessed with longer skirts. In fact, I don’t even know women who wear them. The skirt she’s wearing now still hits below the knee, but it’s a lot flirtier than the one she wore earlier. It’s demure and sexy as all fuck at the same time. The latter, because I’m dying to know what she’s hiding underneath.
Thong? G-string? Boy shorts? Lace or satin panties? Whatever she’s wearing, I’d love nothing more than to rip them off with my teeth.
My blood scalds, turning to lava in my veins, which rushes hot and thick to my cock. The fucker is dying to say hello.
Arianne tilts her head. “You’re staring, Beckett.”
No. I’m gawking openly and stupidly.
“Your hair. Wow! You’re stunning!” I say.
So far, I’ve only seen her with her hair pulled back tight in a severe bun. It’s still up, but this sexy messy look enhances her features and showcases her eyes beautifully. Her makeup is a little more dramatic tonight. Those dark-red pouty lips are inviting to no end.
